In which our intrepid hero explores one circumstance where global climate change could be a good thing.

A new bird has taken up residence in my neighbourhood. I’ve never seen it, but its call is distinctive. It screams poo-WEEEEEEEEET! poo-WEEEEEEEEET! like a car alarm, at about 120 decibels, from dusk till dawn.

Needless to say, I’ve got a splitting headache, and I haven’t got very much sleep at all over the past couple of nights. But, in my roundabout way, I’m doing something about it. Not dreaming of a world in which I could pop down to the convenience store on the corner and buy a sniper rifle, mind you, but something which could have a positive effect on the situation.

And the damn bird has only itself to blame.

Its call is so loud and annoying that I have to wrap a pillow and a blanket around my head to block it out. I also have to switch on my pedestal fan to full—even though I don’t feel hot at all—just to white-noise the birdcall away.

This uses up electricity. Which comes from a coal-fired plant. Which creates lots and lots of greenhouse gases. Which raises temperatures and kills birds, like my friggin’ annoying, poo-WEEEEEEEEET!ing friend.

I wish it didn’t cost me extra to do this, but—in the long run—if it means that I’ll never have to lose several nights’ sleep in a row to that hideous, insidious, infernal poo-WEEEEEEEEET!ing, then so be it.

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